Picking on an Intellectual

"From the first day I came into this world until today, I have finally met you all, my dear brothers."

"It feels so good not to go crazy."

"So, who wants to talk to me now?"

The Primarch present looked at the other Curze with unparalleled astonishment.

"Curze, what's going on?" Mortarion stared warily at the Night Haunter sitting on the steps.

To be honest, the Night Haunter's aura isn't exactly friendly these days.

He left the power claws inside the Emperor's body, but the Emperor's body did not heal, and blood continued to flow.

The Night Haunter sat casually on the steps, a pool of blood beside him.

"Mortarion, I don't know exactly how this happened, but from the moment I awakened, the Night Haunter has been in my mind."

"Brothers, this is my biggest secret, but it seems it can't be kept anymore."

"Lion El'Jonson would be happy to hear your secret," Perturabo said first.

The only thing Perturabo is thinking about now is why he sent Curze instead of going himself?

"Hey, after holding it in for decades, I can finally come out and talk to people. Brothers, ask me anything you want."

All the Primarch stared at the Night Haunter, watching this man who had just been attempting to assassinate the King, now so relaxed and candid. They were quite unaccustomed to it.

Or rather, they don't know what to ask or how to begin.

"Alright, since none of you are going to talk, I'll go first. I come from my original destiny."

"The original destiny?" Fulgrim repeated the words, a very bold guess forming in his mind.

"You're still as wise as ever, Fulgrim, but compared to the old you, you're no longer so Vanity."

"You know me very well?"

"Of course, Fulgrim, after all, you are my Teacher."

In the original timeline, when the Night Haunter returned, it was Fulgrim who guided him through the process of familiarizing him with the affairs of the Imperium.

Therefore, Fulgrim holds a rather important place in the Night Haunter's heart.

But now that I have a father, everything is different.

Boom!

Just as the Night Haunter was about to delve deeper into the discussion, the door to the Throne Room was suddenly kicked open.

"Looks like we have a new audience, that's great." The Night Haunter smiled knowingly.

The person who had just kicked open the door was none other than Horus, who had gone to find Malcador to water the flowers together.

"Father!"

Seeing the Emperor sitting on the Golden Throne, barely alive, and looking at the pool of blood pooling on the steps, Horus turned red in an instant.

"Curze!!"

"I'm listening, the ringleader of the Horus Heresy."

Boom!

Horus unleashed the fastest speed and the greatest power he had ever possessed in his life.

He threw a punch straight at the Night Haunter's face.

However, as everyone knows, never challenge the Night Haunter to a duel.

Bang!

The Night Haunter simply turned slightly to the side and extended his right foot, causing Horus to fall flat on his face.

"Just a friendly reminder, unlike my brothers, there aren't many people who can compare to me when it comes to Psychic Power Prophecy."

The Night Haunter has never loved his Prophecy abilities as much as he does today.

His father's teachings changed his destiny and reshaped his soul.

May his Prophecies no longer lead only to destruction, and may he no longer go mad.

Thus, the true power of Prophecy was revealed.

If his previous Prophecies were from an immersive first-person perspective, now he has become a tourist on the sidelines of fate.

"Is this what it feels like to Great Angel? It's so amazing!"

Seeing the somewhat neurotic Night Haunter, none of the Primarch dared to approach him for a moment.

However, Curze knew very well that if they were to suffer the same fate as the Night Haunter, being dragged into the Golden Throne by the Emperor and babbling on for ten thousand years, they would end up the same way.

"What shall I call you? Grand Inquisitor? Night Lords?"

"Salute to you, the Imperium's greatest hero, and a clump of ashes beneath the Emperor's ass."

The Night Haunter held this Imperium Chancellor in high regard, for as he had said, Malcador's sacrifice was the greatest sacrifice in human history.

He devoted himself to the Imperium in life, but after death, he became a handful of ashes on the throne.

How tragic, how lamentable!

"You can call me Night Haunter, and just as I am, I am Konrad Curze."

"However, compared to the younger brother you all know, I'm much more hot-tempered than him."

"Then what is the purpose of your appearance this time?" Malcador, looking at the Night Haunter.

"Of course, it's for my father, for the great Father of Night."

"The despicable Emperor betrayed him, and he must pay a heavy price for his betrayal!"

"So are you satisfied now?" Malcador asked.

He could sense the terror of this Night Haunter.

Of course, this terror wasn't about strength. If we're talking about true strength, apart from the Grand Inquisitor and the Infinite, no one present was his match.

The Grand Inquisitor's Warp abilities are quite troublesome; they can not only enhance his own strength but also forcibly sever the battle.

As for the other one, he is the Overlord of the Necrons, possessing an abundance of advanced technology.

What truly terrified Malcador was the Night Haunter's state of mind.

Unlike the Grand Inquisitor.

Even though the Grand Inquisitor was rational and dignified, he still had a touch of human warmth in his heart; one could say he was sentimental.

But this Night Haunter is completely different; he is a thoroughly rational person.

He was more of Punisher than a Judge.

The reason this Punisher has been able to maintain his humanity to this day is all thanks to Old Han.

"Satisfied? You jest, Chancellor Excellency. Everything I'm doing now is merely an appetizer from fate."

"Speaking of which, those imperial Adeptus Custodes under the Emperor are cowards too, all they know is how to bully my young brother because he's an intellectual."

"In my opinion, their flesh and blood should be used as clay to make Statues."

"Use their skeletons as roof beams to build Palaces."

"Their blood should be turned into fountains, their skin and veins woven into carpets!"

As the Night Haunter sat there, recounting these horrific and inhuman details with an unchanging expression, both Malcador and the Primarch turned pale.

"See that, Curze? My young brother, a lot of the time, fists are more effective than words."

The group looked at the Night Haunter, then at Curze, and felt extremely fortunate.

Thank goodness, thank goodness, the brother they knew was a normal Primarch.

That concludes my self-introduction. Please feel free to ask questions.